What to write about when you don’t know what to write about.

Posted on October 17, 2013October 17, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

Building Walls in Brooklyn

What do you do when you don’t know what to write about?

When you’re stuck or worried or wondering what to say next, write anyways.

Write about things that no one is talking about.

Write about the things that are whispering in your ear, that seem strange, or that seem off, somehow. Write about the things you’re not sure if you should say. Tell the stories you haven’t told yet. Say it anyway.

Write about what makes you angry, or what seems paradoxical.

Write about how the New York Times keeps writing about how we should get more sleep, eat less sugar, drink less coffee, walk more, and that sitting is dangerous – and yet what if the people who write the pieces are still living sugar-filled, caffeinated, stationary lives? What does it take to actually enact habit change, or motivate change?

Write about how Fast Company talks about digital sabbaticals yet never seems to stop posting on the damn internet. I feel like I’m drowning in Fast Company Facebook Posts. It’s like FastBook, except it’s going too fast for me and I want to slow down. Maybe Fast Company can take a digital sabbatical and save the rest of us a day. Less FOMO, more JOMO.

Write about how the deluge of life coaches means something significant (maybe that we really are all screwed up?) or that maybe we’re in an ever-increasing flood of informational internet opportunities that’s just a fancy pyramid scheme in disguise (do I believe this? I don’t know); or, alternatively and more optimistically, that the idea of a life coach is indicative of a culture that has lost something. Write about a culture that has forgotten how to describe the value of people of immense wisdom, of mentors, of friends, of age, and of colleagues who give us the increasingly scarcest resource of all–ample time and thoughtfulness and attention.

Or perhaps–and you should write about this, or maybe I should, we’ll see–maybe it means that we’re a culture devoid of meaning, that we’ve lost the rituals, practices, habits, and deeper connectivity to the earth and to our own spirituality (to God, to the universe, to anything). Talk about how our post-enlightenment love affair with science has led us so far astray from the knowledge and wisdom we’ve had for thousands and thousands of years (the yogis emphasized the importance of meditation five thousand years ago; the scientific papers are just beginning to understand why this is true). Perhaps religion and science are hand-in-hand, and both will make the other stronger, as each catches up with the other (and more importantly, acknowledges the other).

Write about why we search for a reason and an understanding for who we are. Write about why we seek to understand why we’re doing what we’re doing.

Write about what it’s like to be curious.

Write about what it’s like to see. Capture the world in words, as best you can. Really write it out–the details and nuances and intricacies of where you are, and who you are, right now.

Write about how digital technology and interconnectedness is changing us, and what you think the future of the internet is.

Speculate on the future of public space, and whether or not democracy and digital connectedness are serving us.

Write about problems around the world that we collectively ignore because the hip gyrations of a young teen is more mesmerizing than the assassination of twelve human lives.

Write about how the next $500 ebook or self-guided course isn’t going to get you where you want if you don’t actually read it. Wonder why people buy things and still don’t take action.

Write about how fucking mad you are, and your inside feelings that you’ve been locking up for years.

Write about what it’s like to be you, and what makes you angry, and what makes you blissfully happy. Write about the tools you use to numb yourself, because we all try desperately to avoid sadness and misery, and we stuff ourselves with caffeine, sugar, stimulation, pot, television, phones, and other instant-pieces that fill our minds with avoidance. Write about the things we do to numb us from actually feeling.

Admit that you have a body, that you have a soul, that you’re damn depressed and the reason for that is because you actually believe you’re capable of a lot more–and you haven’t figured out how to make the magic happen yet.

Write about what it’s like to be one single individual cell within your body, a particle so small it’s incomprehensible; yet it’s dependent on the air you breathe and water you give it to pulse and beat and carry out its marching orders.

Write about what it’s like to be you, here, and now.

Write about what you feel, and have an honest conversation with yourself about it. Crack the vulnerability open a little bit. Watch for the flood gates. Let the floods come. Have some fucking feelings, and roll around with them. Discover your desires. Write them in big bold beautiful ink on the insides of your body (or the outsides) and on the walls of your living space and in the margins and pages of your notebooks.

Write about the fact that we have no walls anymore or natural barriers to say no, and so we’re constantly flooded with requests that make us anxious, tired and depressed.

Write about what the future will say of Steve Jobs, and how our collective idolization might be washed away if we discover that the advent of the personal and mobile computer–while an exceptional tool for human creativity–also created the unintended consequences of contributing to alarming obesity rates couple and such sedentary humans that our internal IQ’s went down as much as they increased through the information access we enabled.

Wonder about the future of the internet and how it’s changing our lives. Take a piece that someone has written and respond to it, thoughtfully. React. Respond. Listen.

Poke the box. Fuck it, shake it. Stir it. Challenge Seth Godin, give him an essay that makes him think harder, question each of your idols, re-examine your mantras. Think twice about the information you’re given. Disagree and argue. If you construct it well enough, I bet Seth would be fascinated with the conversation you create. You might be wrong. So what? Admit it, and try again.

Think, and then think again.

Write about people who have adrenal fatigue, who are too tired to keep up with work. Write about how an obsession with productivity is wearing down the souls of the people who are trying the hardest; the people we need to continue to be vibrant. Write about what a waste of time email is. Write about how you would do things differently–and then write about how many steps and stumbles it took for you to make it happen.

Write about how your heart bleeds when you hold a tiny infant in your arms because, just for a hot second, the world’s energy moves through your heart center and you feel both restfully still and a live pulsing, and you’re connected through your chakras to a deeper reason for being, and in that bliss, you look at the limitless possibilities in that tiny breathing being and you think,

Damn, that’s perfect, perfect,

and you look at yourself and you think,

what the fuck happened?

###

[ You are still as beautiful, you know. You already are beautiful. You are always capable of beauty. ]

[ You’re perfect, in exactly that messy way that you are. It’s just hiccups and hangups that occupy the world, and get all messy inside your brain space. ]

###

Cultivate Wonder.

Wonder about change, and how it happens. Breathe into the space and creases and pockets of your lungs. Describe what it’s like to be a cell within your body. Touch the sensation of one side of your body, and then the other side. Pause for a moment and detail–in delicious words–the tracing of a finger around the circumference of your body. Close your eyes and imagine where the edges of your humanity are: can you feel them?

Pick an object and tell the story of its life. Talk about what it was before it came into your consciousness, where it was made, and how its life intersects with yours. Wonder where it goes when you toss it flippantly to the side. Consider waste streams and garbage, and capture the movement of things through systems by tracing one item through time.

Write about something that isn’t being said.

If you have a thought, or a joke, or a cranky opinion—and you want to rant, or write, or change the topic—do it.

Write about the things that should be different.

Write a story about a conversation worth having. Write about your experience, and then write about how that connects to larger issues. Write your story. Write about what it’s like to be you.

But for the love of all of it, tell your story, and say what needs to be said.

There’s plenty to write about. Go on, get writing.

Who We Are: A Profile of Readership of This Blog. (And Four Book Winners!)

Posted on October 11, 2013January 6, 2016 by Sarah K Peck

You and me, we’re the magic of the internet.

Last week I sent out a survey to readers to get a better sense of this community that we’re growing here. We had nearly 200 responses to the survey, and the results are in — Here’s what we look like:

GENDER: Readers are about two thirds female and one-third male: (69% of responders marked female, 31% marked male).

AGE DISTRIBUTION: While I’ve experienced this informally through my interactions in emails and online, it was nice to see it mapped in distribution: we’re a mix of folks of all ages — from recent college grads to new parents, to second- and third-careerists, and many folks grayer and wiser than I am. Here’s the spread:

Under 21: 3%
Age 21-30: 36%
Age 31-40: 25%
Age 41-50: 18%
Age 51-60: 14%
Age 61-70: 5%
Over 70: 0%

Who you are and what you’re working on:

You’re working on: figuring out how to make a living doing something interesting (or rather, something that you actually like–because still so many people are living lives and working jobs that they are miserable in); how to contribute your talents to the world; discovering what those talents are; becoming a better writer or communicator; understanding self-publishing and what it means to talk online; and developing your own businesses or passion projects.

Many people are interested in learning how to live with less as well as how to focus, hone, and refine what it is they really want. You’re interested in knowing methods for de-cluttering; you aspire to simplicity in home and health, and happiness not through more stuff, but through something not yet identified.

For the post-graduates, you’re moving back home with the parents and navigating the new-job world; in the first five years or so, you’re learning, reading, and trying to figure out how to lay out plans to make the most of your 20’s and early 30’s in a combination of excitement and trepidation. Will you make the right decisions? (No, and yes!)

Nearly everyone is learning or doing something new, no matter what age. The common thread between young and old is the desire to pursue more challenging, interesting, and fulfilling (and ultimately, meaningful) projects, businesses, and lives. Whether it’s starting a new business, taking on new clients, starting a new job, or making a shift in your life: you’re talented creatives at the brink of a new endeavor, a place you find yourself in agains and again as you pick up more new projects.

The struggle with this, however, is that while you’re building something on the side, you also have the real challenge of time constraint and competing interests: you’re split between spending time on your current commitments (from your job(s), to your relationships, your debt, etc).

Burnout is a real issue, too (and one I’ll go into more on later this year and early next in some of my upcoming essays): most people are working really hard, and progress is slow at times. Balancing the need to make the change with making time for self-care is critical. How do you know when to work harder and press on (“Make it work!” says Tim Gunn)–and when to yield, slow, rest, and make space?

What’s holding you back:

What holds you back is complicated–for some it’s self-doubt, low self-esteem, stress, and anxiety. It’s the inside voice, the learned voice, or the narratives of our childhoods that we’ve carried into the present. These psychological hang-ups are real, because they are ours and wind their way through everything we do.

For others, it’s simply too many things: too many conflicting demands, too many projects, too much stuff (literally), and not enough time. For us, it’s about re-learning the power of no, setting boundaries, and clearing out clutter. It’s about making choices that enable freedom–not choices that continue to restrict us.

And for others, it’s the business challenges that are holding us back: we have great ideas, but the first iteration isn’t quite there yet. You can’t find the right clients. You’re not sure how to sell. A whole host of people talked about finding the right clients, connecting with the right people, knowing how to offer and price your services, and discovering how to market yourself and your abilities in the changing work and freelance landscape.

What you want more of (how I can be most helpful):

I’ll have to admit, I was having a bit of a day when I went to my google drive and opened up the survey responses (you know, one of those days when everything breaks, you spill tea across your lap, the recording fails). The fact that 200 people responded blew me away — heart flutters, seriously. I hope you know that YOU ARE WONDERFUL. The responses ranged from silly to tearful to just plain inspiring:

Beyond the threads above–the practical, the tactical, the psychological; people said time and time again that the philosophical undertones and the life lessons really caught their attention. Slow, considerate thoughtfulness and questions about meaning, value, and deeper purpose resonated with most of you across the internet and are a core shared interest in this community.

(And for the person who said I should be elected as a public representative so I can offer a platform of support and encouragement… I do like this idea. Perhaps we’ll build it! Together…)

Upcoming: micro-workshops for freedom, gratitude, and inspiration.

I’m working on a few micro-workshops (two weeks) coming up that will be shorter and more affordable starting later this year. Based both on the overwhelming feedback from the survey responses as well as my one-on-one interactions with folks from Pay What You Can Days and in the Writer’s Workshop, I’m designing a module that will be affordable, sweet, and a beautiful community kick-start into topical themes.

The micro-workshops will be specifically designed for folks who want to up the ante on positivity, encouragement, growth, getting started, and motivation; a digital treats of two weeks around specific topics. The first will be coming out in early December, and the next in January. Mark your calendars and get excited about joining us…

And the book winners!

And the book winners! I’m contacting you by email… because so many responses came in, I’m giving away FOUR copies of the books, not two. This time, folks are winning Money: A Love Story by Kate Northrup, and Die Empty, by Todd Henry.

And because it’s the season of pumpkins (my favorite–possibly because it’s the month of my birthday), followed by a season of gratitude and thanks (also my favorite! Okay fine, I just like holidays and celebrating!) I’ll have a few more books to giveaway in the near future, as well, including a copy of Scott Berkun’s latest book, The Year Without Pants, and Mike Rohde’s book, The Sketchnote Handbook.

And as for my book, by and large the responses leaned towards “Do Something” AND “Manipulate the Monkey Brain,” both tied for first. Apparently “getting started” was less liked. Thanks for the feedback.

Now, to get back to writing that book proposal…

sarah signature

“You can have everything you want.” But also: “You will never be enough.” Two cultural themes that need to be reconfigured.

Posted on September 30, 2013September 30, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

You can have everything you want, and you will never be enough.

Ouch.

I keep running my head in into two cultural mindsets that I think have negative consequences in American culture (this is not necessarily true everywhere. The French, for example, don’t necessarily subscribe to the American parenting ideal of praising a kid for everything they do). But within this culture, there are a couple of paradigms that run fluidly through our consciousness and are worth paying attention to.These ideas pervade our mental space, our advertising space, our urgency, and our need for more–perhaps even our inability to say no. And I just think they are terribly wrong–and bad for us.

The first paradigm: “you can have anything you want.”

The idea that you can do whatever you want, become whoever you want, and have everything you want is an ambition and idea taught to Millennials and Generation Y from the moment they’re given matching sets of toddling shoes and oodles of fresh diapers and socks.

This idea that you can do, be or have anything you want. Do you agree? Is this true? Can you really be anything you want? Can you have everything?

But Sarah, you might gasp–don’t tell me that I won’t get what I want! That’s a terrible idea! How could you say such a thing?

It’s complicated. You can try and place your energy in however many spaces you can get your hands on. But for many people, they won’t reach their dreams. Their jobs won’t fulfill their passions. They’ll be taken on other journeys or life trajectories that are entirely different than what might be expected.

Regardless of the outcome on this debate–perhaps yes, you can have whatever you want–the corollary is what’s interesting to me right now. If you truly can have whatever you want (or so the cultural teaching goes), then it follows that we don’t have to make decisions because we can have it all, and we don’t have to learn how to say no, because it’s easier to say yes to things.

The consequence of the assumption that you can have everything you want is that you may be disappointed. Often.

Learning how to say no, how to decide, how to choose, and how to get to your own heart center is critical. Interestingly, if you really examine this assumption–I’m not sure that many people actually want to have everything. Happiness isn’t about things and ownership and millions of dollar bills. Wealth is about freedom and having enough or just exactly what you want. Regardless of the outcome of this debate, one consequence of this assumption is that we don’t get taught how to decide. How to say no.

Is the flip side of being taught you can have everything you want failing to teach us how to make decisions? Does this make prioritization and deciding impossible?

The second: “You will never be enough.”

Oof. Ouch, that doesn’t feel good either, does it?

Yet look for it. There seems to be a cultural construction or ideal that you will never be enough. This idea pervades–you will never have enough, and you will never be enough. This culture of scarcity–of not having enough–means that we’re always seeking something to fill us up or fill the void. Hence, we shop like crazy.

Brene Brown identifies this culture of scarcity in several common phrases that we say every single day. When you wake up in the morning, the first thought many people have is:

“I didn’t get enough sleep.”

Not enough. (Why?) Then, we start the work day:

“I don’t have enough time.”

Again, not enough. (Why?) And at the end of the day:

“I didn’t get enough done.”

And again, not enough. (Why?)

We see this from the way we talk about money (“I don’t have enough money”)–and in fact, that’s not a conversation we’re having because we’re too timid to even begin talking about money and scarcity–to our sleep, our time, our lives, and our work.

Why these cultural constructs fail us.

These two cultural constructions–a culture of scarcity (“you are not enough, you don’t have enough,”) and a culture of achievement (“you can be anything you want, you can have everything you want,”)–are they beneficial? How do they serve us, and how do they deceive us?

And worse, does the combination of these two cultural thoughts make us all slightly neurotic? (I can be anything! But shit! I’ll never be enough! But I can have everything! But shit! I’ll never be enough!)

What would a different mindset look like?

Out of curiosity, what if we had a different mantra? What would the opposite construct look like? Perhaps:

You are enough.

You already have everything you need.

There is nothing in this world that you need to own or acquire to make your life better.

You are enough.

This here, this is enough.

Hmmm…

How do you find the people that are right for you? Hint: it’s all about energy.

Posted on September 26, 2013September 25, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

Two years ago, I met Todd Henry at South by South West, and we got to walking and chatting between throngs of crowded sidewalks and the craziness of tech events. While walking, I remember him clearly outlining his ideas, his creative process, and his vision for the projects that were coming next. I’m so excited because today, September 26th, his next book, “Die Empty,” is finally live, and it’s all about creating your best work in the world. I’ll be doing a full review of the book in the coming weeks, but for now I wanted to share a gem that I previously shared with Accidental Creative–and it’s all about energy, people, and matching up personalities.

The people factor: it’s all about energy.

Ever been at a party and felt like you were completely exhausted? That you couldn’t stand to keep your eyes open for another minute, even though it was supposed to be an amazing party?

Likewise, have you ever stayed up almost all night, focused and driven, surrounded by brilliant people and creative ideas?

Energy comes in limited quantities. It is finite, it waxes and wanes, and it grows or diminishes based on what you are doing and who you are surrounded with. What dictates our energy? How do we capture these spaces that help us be amazing, and remove the events and things that deplete our energy?

There are people, places and things that make me feel like I’m building my energy stores, that rejuvenate me, and help me to do my best work. Likewise, there are also people and places that zap my energy; that leave me exhausted; that make me feel as though I’ve waste my time and my energy – and my day – without getting anything useful done.

While brainstorming in a coffee shop with a dear friend, we both asked each other how to deal with these different personality types as they come into our lives. People are exceptional – they are our number one resource – but not all people are helpful at any given project or time.

How do you make decisions about how you spend your time – and who you hang out with? And more importantly, how do you say no to people and things that zap your energy reserves?

Together, we made a map of the different types of people in our lives, and agreed that we would consciously try to say no to hanging out with people that didn’t help us in our long-term goals – or in our energy management.

This system isn’t just about eliminating “Negative Nancys” and “Debbie Downers” (although every effort should be made to reduce their presence in your life, and to come up with phrases that don’t disparage the great Nancy’s and Debbie’s in the world!).

Understanding how people affect you means that you can do a better job matching what you need at any given moment to what your energy requires. Sometimes I don’t need to be around excited people. Sometimes I just need another balanced philosopher to do and create my best work.

And sometimes I need to be more judicious about reducing the time I spend with people who don’t match my energy.

On the energy spectrum, here are the ranges of personality types – from high, positive energy, to balanced and stable individuals, to strong negative energy.

Do you identify with any of the following energy personality types? How do you bring these different personas into your world? And do you pay attention to how people make you feel?

The Positives

Buzzers. These are my excited electrons. People who are so thrilled to be around other people and in the world, talking with them is like getting a burst of inspiration. When I wake up in the morning, a phone call with them is better than coffee. They are my muses, my inspirations, my creatives. Like coffee, however, I can’t drink it nonstop each day – so they are better in quantifiable bursts.
Happys. Generally positive, seem to be happy almost all the time. People you would skip with, laugh with, enjoy being with. I have lots of these in my life. They aren’t as physically excited as the Buzzers, but they are generally happy and have a positive attitude about most things.
Wonder Listeners. People who can hear what you are saying without you saying it; who seem to listen to you with both their bodies and their ears, and who exude a positive radiance without necessarily saying or doing anything, are your Wonder Listeners. After hanging out with one of these, I leave feeling happy, excited, and inspired.
Coaches and Mentors. These are people who seem to have endless stores of hope and inspiration designed just for you. People who are genuinely interested in what you have to offer and how you are doing. The coaches and mentors are usually a check-in, once a week or once a month, and they offer their advice and wisdom to you in their interactions.

The Middle Balance (Balancers and Grounders)

Quiet Stabilizers. People who are refreshing, rejuvenating, and inspiring without being showy or ostentatious. Someone you can sit quietly in a park with, without talking very much, and leave happier. These people don’t toot their own horn, and likely don’t know how cool they are. Yet being around them is satiating, relaxing, restorative.
Feedbacks. People who tell you what you need to hear, not necessarily what you want to hear. These people can be mistakenly labeled as negatives, but they still have your best interests in heart and are actually looking out for you in the long run. They come from a place of love. Keep them around, but note the times when you aren’t up for receiving feedback and need encouragement instead – and seek them out when you need smart advice.
The Strugglers and Changers. There are people who are struggling, working towards change, and are sometimes frustrated or caught in-betweens. They are on their way towards becoming the person they want to be, and conversations with them are raw, open, inspiring, hard, and generally variable. These are my strongest friends, the people who open my eyes and listen to my shared experiences as well. We learn well together. To note, however, sometimes I don’t have enough energy to devote to these conversations, and it’s best to say no or time this date for when I have enough energy or bandwidth to devote.

Negatives

The Repetitives and Non-Changers. People who are stuck in a problem that you’ve listened to for years. Their complaints are the same, over and over again, and they don’t bring anything new to the table. Each time, it feels like you’re stuck in déjà-vu, because you’re still talking about how to deal with their terrible relationships, bad work situation, or general malaise. To deal with these types, tell them, politely and firmly, that you don’t want to talk about their ____ problem anymore. “I appreciate all the struggles you are having with your job situation, but I’d like to not talk about that anymore. I know you are working hard on it. Let’s focus and talk about new things when we meet.” Sometimes by setting a clear boundary about your relationship and expectations even helps the other person by not letting them use you as a place to rehash the rut–and encourages them to take action.
The Fakes. There are people who masquerade as positives – the words they use are cheery, they tell you what they think you want to hear; they quote inspirational things and bits. But the substance is not there. And, more importantly, (and this is critical) you are not rejuvenated by the words or the ideas in the way you are around Quiet Wonders or Listeners or Buzzers. Some people are obviously fake; others not so obviously. At the end of the day, what’s most important is how you respond when you’re around them.
Negative Influences. There are people who are wonderful, interesting, bright, and creative. And yet, for some reason, I am negatively influenced when I am around them. It’s not that they themselves are bad people – it’s that I make bad choices when I’m around them. For some reason or another, hanging out with them is not conducive to my success. These are the trickiest people to identify, because there’s nothing about them that’s bad or easy to rationalize avoiding. It’s how they influence you that tells you about whether or not it’s a good person to have in your life. If your number one goal or dream at the moment is do ____, and being around this person actually hinders your ability to do this (and possibly even makes it harder for you to do in the future, as well), you have to make a choice about your priorities.
Toxic. These are the people who make you feel like shutting down when you’re around them. The people that drain you, that zap your energy, that are filled with negativity and cutting remarks. Most of us quickly eliminate these people from our lives after just a few interactions. They are easy to spot and identify. If you still have them around, ask yourself why? What do you benefit from being with a toxic person?

Remember: in each of these scenarios, it’s not about whether the person on the other end is inherently a good or bad person–the most important thing is how each of these personality types make you feel.

It’s not about whether or not the person is a good or bad person – it’s about whether or not they are the right energy type for you.

It’s important to note that not all people can fit neatly into each of these categories – often the dynamic relationships we have with others changes depending on who is interacting and what the objectives are. Sometimes my friends are Buzzing-happy, and other times they are balanced-stabilizers.

Defining these personalities – and how you feel when you’re around different types of energy – has helped me in understanding why I leave feeling out of sorts from some interaction. In turn, it helps me decide what to do – and who I choose to spend time with – in the future.

Relationships matter. Pay attention to how the people around you are making you feel.

Which is your favorite personality type to be around?

sarah signature

This was originally published on Accidental Creative in 2011. Check out Todd’s newly released book, “Die Empty,” out September 26th, 2013.

When is the right time to make change? The changing of seasons is the perfect time to re-fresh and re-invest.

Posted on September 24, 2013September 24, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

Image by Graydon Foulger, Impressionist Oil Painter.

Oh, these times of transition…

Fall is a beautiful time for change and transition. The weather cools with winds that whisper at a coming winter, the hint of a chilly air brushing across my shoulder tops and threading cool breezes against my skin. I huddle in my jacket, tugging it closer and shaking out my fingertips. I notice that the mornings are getting slower and the days are getting shorter. This weekend marked the official beginning of Autumn, closing down with a startling clamp on the last of summer.

The cooling season and drier air makes me long for hibernation; I stay in bed, pillow atop head, and say a muffled NO into the bedding, my aspirations for morning workouts disappearing alongside the droopy sun. I want to lie for longer, hide from the world, and treasure the warmth and depth of my hidden blankets. My mood shifts; I crave hearty foods and thick soups; I am slower to start in the morning and my mind dips more frequently into the melancholy of lower light. Every psychological trigger begins to fire a reminder for me–from the Halloween candy dotting the grocery aisles to the orange hues of colored leaves to the warm smell of turkey cranberry sandwiches with brie. I grasp the fleeting remainder of warm days with bike rides and lunches on the water before it cools too much to enjoy.

Yesterday was the Fall equinox, a time marking the transition of seasons and temperatures into a new time. For those on the northern hemisphere, we’re closing our long summer days filled with light and energy, and rolling into a season of darker days, hibernation, a few extra hours of slumber, and a craving for rich, starchy foods, harvest vegetables, salts, and soups. For those on the southern hemisphere, blinking in the spring light after a long winter, you’re also awakening to change and transition, one of a different sort.

The equinox is a time to revisit your intentions, to shift, and to re-align yourself for the coming winter. A friend wrote beautifully about what the equinox brings to our life:

“The equinox is a time to revisit your intentions as well as to be in gratitude for your harvest–whatever it may be. Acknowledge all that you have at this time and focus on the abundance of the harvest rather than any lack. The equinox is also a time to think about cleaning, pruning, and making any changes that you are inspired to make as a way to make more space for what you want. It is a time for expansion, freedom and commitment. Take some time to ritualize change. Honor the change of season and use the energy of the fall equinox support the release of any burden you may have been carrying for someone else. Put it down once and for all.” (M.M. via The Power Path)

It made me thankful for the energy, change, and growth processes I’ve put into place this year. Leaving my job, moving across the country, selling my car, and setting up my own client roster–these were not simple projects. In retrospect, I bow in gratitude to the year’s work, and I’m thankful for the times I took risks.

What have you harvested this year? What can you acknowledge that has gone well, or shifted significantly? What are you growing? Are you still setting foundations in place for great harvests next year, and next spring?

What can you let go of, or refocus your energy on? What rituals can you take towards change?

More than just writing… a workshop and a journey.

This Fall, 20 students joined me in the Writer’s Workshop, a 4-week course designed to discover your writer’s voice, teach essential writing skills, unlock your inner creative, and grow as a writer within a small-group community. Their inspiration and enthusiasm has been breathtaking.

Each person came to the course with a mind and heart open towards learning, towards improving, and wanting to grow in an area that’s critical for success: communication. Writing allows us to clarify who we are, what we want, and share our ideas. Beyond writing, however, the four-week course is a journey into creativity, into storytelling, into memories and dreams, and into mind-mapping.

It’s a commitment to yourself that you want to get better. It’s a ritual of change. It’s a recognition and a dedication towards growth.

Learning is one of my favorite things. It’s an incredible gift to pour new knowledge and ideas into your brain, synthesize them, mull over them, contemplate, and then create your own works. The best bloggers and creatives I know are all incredibly smart and phenomenally hardworking–likely far more than what is publicly visible, in fact–and they take the time an energy to invest in themselves, to create day in and day out, and to hustle when they need to.

For writers in our writing workshop, here’s what a few of them had to say about why they joined the journey:

“I love to write but have challenges finding the time and space with a demanding full-time (non-writer) job. I’m hoping this class provides both inspiration and structure to help me build writing into my daily life going forward.”

“I thought that getting back into writing regularly might help me find a voice that hasn’t been as vocal lately.”

“I want to hone my most crisp and compelling writing voice and develop a regular writing practice.”

“I’ve always wanted to engage in personal/creative writing but never did much of it. I’m looking forward to using the experience from this course as a catalyst to begin a daily practice of writing, mostly for myself.”

“I have a blog on my website, but I haven’t been too consistent with it. The goal for me is to be more consistent, disciplined, and always have a plethora of new ideas to write about.”

As someone who is hungry for knowledge, I love diving into new projects, courses, and ideas. It’s a joy to teach people who feel the same way. These talented professionals from around the world are brilliant peers and colleagues–and yet they are taking the time to join the workshop, often alongside day jobs, families, side hustles, and other endeavors–each of them coming together to invest in their dreams and take the steps towards improving their lives and businesses.

You don’t have to have it “figure it out” to partake on the journey.

Why do people join in new adventures? Sign up for new classes? What do they want to improve?

I find the most common denominator of people who make change successfully in their lives is that they start before they feel ready–they dive in before it seems right. And it’s true in my own life: I long delayed signing up for Yoga Teacher Training because I thought I had to be better before I could start (some idea in my mind told me that I needed to be “a great yogi” before I could indulge in deeper learning). And then I realized that I was putting up the same barrier: I didn’t need to wait for the perfect time to improve myself and learn something new. So I signed up to take my first deeper dive into Yoga Teacher Training. You don’t have to wait to get better. You can begin your journey exactly where you are.

It’s been an incredible year of change for me, and the year isn’t over yet. As I transition from traditional employment to building my own practice and business, developing my own patterns, and investing in my own journey, I have quite a bit to discover as I grow.

Getting better starts now.

What are you letting go of this Fall? What are you starting? How are you editing your journey and building your life?

With strength during all times of transition,

sarah signature

Jumping is terrifying. Or, behind the scenes of the last few months: Life. Mind Work. Change. Here. Now. Hello. Breathe…

Posted on August 28, 2013September 2, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

Panic-Now-700

I wake up in a panic, nerves sending a fear signal up and down my trembling arms. Adrenaline pours into my veins, shooting up my skin like a shock to my system. My brain races, full of questions and doubts and fears. I can’t sleep again, even though it’s dark. The light from the streetlamp outside my window glares at me, accusingly. I get up, I start pacing.

I wonder if what I’ve done is the right thing. If what I’m doing is the right thing. I feel like I’m jumping out of an airplane, a rug pulled out beneath my feet to reveal that I’m far too high up in the sky and gravity’s tugging on me. I don’t know if I have a parachute. I’m not sure what a parachute would even look like. I’ll need to figure it out later, but probably fairly soon.

Sometimes I’m soaring with the incredible high of experimentation, and other times my mind wonders if it knows just exactly what I’ve gotten myself into. I cling to my practices of yoga, journaling and other meditative daily walks, but they don’t fully temper the fact that I don’t know what I’m doing. My mind is a scramble. I can’t understand the illogical things I’ve put it through. It’s probably for the best that I don’t understand.

Trust.

There’s no easy way to jump other than to put both feet out and trust the world around you. Trust that you’ll land, that you might fly, that it’s okay to fall, or that some other iteration you can’t predict will come to fruition. Unlike the time I went zip-lining with my sister, where my jump off the platform was so timid that I smacked my butt against the wooden platform below as I launched, I need to lean, and lean so hard that it feels like falling.

I’m falling. This is falling.

While it’s been quiet around these parts lately, that’s just an illusion–a set of unwritten essays and the silence that is days passing a surface skin for a mind and a life that’s been in flux for much of this summer and this year. I look back at my writings for August, noticing that I’ve only scrawled two posts this month; those posts are just a scant glimpse into life behind the scenes and what I’ve been up to. For those familiar with astrology, the world’s been ablaze with the recent Grand Trine, the idea of a shift so large and a planetary arrangement so powerful that people will feel huge changes, up-endings, and fluxes in their life; that dreams become reality; that things get messy; that things resolve — and I don’t just read this, I feel this, I know this, I am living this.

Hello, world. Shall we dance?

Sometimes I struggle with what to write about on this blog—is it a diary? Is it a travel trope of my own adventures? Is it strictly related to writing and communications? It’s not always clear; I share my personal stories and lessons as a window into how I’ve practiced (and continue to practice) the philosophies and principals that underline most of my work, scratching out and re-writing as I go, editing as I learn. I don’t profess to write about myself because that’s the topic at hand; I do love telling the stories I live as a means for sharing bigger ideas and stories. But when I leave myself out of all of the writing and start to write just about rules or teachings or hollow lists, it starts to feel a bit empty.

Like I’ve forgotten to tell you something. Like I’ve left part of myself out.

The past six months have been a whirlwind, to the point that it feels as though I’ve been hiding something. The past year has been a challenge, and I’m not always comfortable talking about all of it. Some of the hands-down-best-things in my life have happened in recent months, but so have some of the scariest and hardest. It wasn’t shiny and glorious; much of it came in a package that felt like I was being thrown repeatedly against a wall like a rag doll and left in a crumpled heap to stand up and fight a bit more. The great moments came with adrenal fatigue, medical problems, extensive biopsies and visits to the doctor. Moments at conferences after months at home, working all day and late nights, and having to look at someone else and not quite share. Not quite tell. These months and moments have been filled with Doubt. Insecurity. Changes. Lives beginning. Lives ending. Leaving my job, starting a new one. Selling my car (finally). Meeting incredible people. Shifting careers, changing tack.

You, too, are probably noticing something in your own life and in the lives of others around you. As I talk with friends and clients and colleagues, I notice that these big shifts aren’t happening in isolation. We’re all experiencing it, the universe seemingly sending the earth into the spin cycle a few extra times, the players and movers jolted into new realities of their own doing–or as a surprise. The economy has been moving and un-sticking; opportunities are opening while entire industry verticals are left career wastelands; some generations are in huge loss while other people are starting to move around much more in jobs and vocations and practices.

I hear stories of daring and adventure, of incredible romance, of deep pain and loss, of glimmers of beauty within the deepest tragedies. Sometimes the suddenness with which you realize a dream can be incredibly unnerving, pressing you forward into a new sense of self, a new definition, a new story before you felt like you committed to the wanting of your dream. And yet the universe sends you out the door and through three new ones, pressing you to discover your readiness through action, not thinking. And other times it seems unfairly agonizing to wait, years of debt and doubt and pain layered into the pursuit of freedom, a tantalizing notion that seems just out of grasp. Change is rattling. Waiting is painful. I’ve watched people get all that they’ve said they wanted, and fall apart. I’ve watched people try for everything they’ve dreamed of and crumble, stall, wander into places they’d never wish to be. They’re surviving. The universe is doing something.

Change is not easy.

… I’m not sure there are many people who say that it is.

Improvise-700

Welcome to solo-preneurship*, to adventure, to freedom, to creation.

In my world, a big shift happened a few weeks ago. At the end of July, I parted ways with my wonderful and dear company, SWA Group, the place that has been my home for the last five years. Along the way, we created a number of digital and print communications initiatives — sharing the perspective of landscape architecture and describing how the built world works through books, magazines, blogs, and stories. My colleagues are some of the most talented physical and spatial designers I’ve ever met, and they challenged me constantly to learn how to create physical, built spaces within the tricky world of patterns, codes, rules and regulations–learning how to engineer and design places for human enjoyment. Understanding urban patterns and landscape systems is immensely appealing to me, and something I’ve focused on for a long time.

And yet, I leapt.

It’s exciting–and terrifying.

Transitioning from a wonderful job and a space with colleagues who have been extremely supportive of my adventures and experiments was not an easy choice, and it took several weeks and months to iron out the details and to wrap up my final projects and head out. Out into the world of clients and projects and writing and self-employment. Also the asterisk in the title is a note of caution–I’m not headed straight into “solo-preneurship,” because it’s never truly “solo”-preneurship, like Tara Gentile so aptly reminds us. “Business doesn’t happen in a bubble,” she writes; rather, it happens with teams and clients and support and evolution. And markets. And needs. Further, solo-preneurship is not about late nights hustling indefinitely; while hustling is a part of the journey, it doesn’t need to become the entire journey.

And then, I was here.

Shoved out the door and onto the sidewalk, suitcase in hand. I’m taking all the knowledge and chops I’ve got and doing the best I can.

Starting yesterday.

When did this happen?

“To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest.”– Pema Chödrön

Middle Eastern Spices-700

But Sarah, what are you working on? How will you spend your time?

I’ve been avoiding conversations that pull up that dreaded question, that accusatory, “so, what are you doing?” statement, the question that permeates what seems to be nearly every conversation. The rush to fill time—or worse, to apply a story or a definition to how we will spend time—is a national disease we all have, one that requires us to chase productivity and results over holistic being and space for mental clarity. It’s no wonder Time Magazine features a different cover for Americans than the rest of the world when we’re a market more obsessed with our own job performance (and resultant anxiety) than the civil unrest happening in the Middle East. Prayers to Egypt, Syria, Palestine, Israel, and all of the countries in need of deep healing. Including our own.

“The rush to fill time—or worse, to apply a story or a definition to how we will spend time—is a national disease we all have, one that requires us to chase productivity and results over holistic being and space for mental clarity.”

We ask each other what we do before we ask how we’re doing, a quick question that rolls off the tongue faster than you can truly hug someone and look into their eyes, wondering how they actually are. When you’re in transition (and transition is not a temporary state but perhaps an always-state, as Pema Chödrön has gently reminded me in her book, When Things Fall Apart), it’s much harder to answer that question definitively. I have an answer that sounds good, I have an answer that’s short and sweet, I have the answer that helps my parents worry less about my finances (So… how are you supporting yourself?), and I have a few ways to broach the conversation with friends.

The short answer is that I’m writing. And teaching. And learning. And living. The shift, if you put a definition on it, is that I’m no longer working full time with a single employer; I’m working in freelance mode with several clients and project across the country and around the world. Part journalist, part documentarian, part strategist and mostly writer, I’m building a new set of tools and skills and building a new business plan for myself. It’s liberating. It’s thrilling. It brings up every uncertainty I’ve ever had and puts them flat on the kitchen table and stares me square in the face.

It’s full-on accountability.

“Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.” – Jack Kerouac

One of my first projects was a press campaign for a Y-Combinator company in San Francisco dedicated to helping aging seniors live gracefully. I joined Y-Combinator team True Link Financial, a tech start-up tackling the challenge of fraud target aging seniors. Seniors are increasingly vulnerable to misleading marketing and scams; the company’s cofounders Kai Stinchcombe and Claire McDonnell developed a new credit card with a customizable fraud-blocker that helps prevent your parents’ and grandparents’ money from being irreversibly stolen in the time in their life when they need it most.

Aging is an issue that’s fascinated me throughout my studies of cities and people, and with my grandparents aging and later leaving us, I wonder who will take care of them if we all don’t step in and take care of them. A society with no age diversity should alarm you: we need older people to be thriving within our ecosystems, visibly, or we should be concerned for our own future health. It won’t be long until we’re all old (hopefully–that’s the goal, right?). I wonder who will take care of me when I’m 70, 80, or 90.

“The way you do anything is the way you do everything.”

Bethlehem-700

My second assignment as an independent journalist this summer was joining 1for3.org as a documentarian and writer on a recent trip to Aida Camp, a Palestinian Refugee Camp in Bethlehem. I joined an exceptionally talented team of designers and human rights activists dedicated to making change in a part of the world that needs a lot of love. We traveled to Israel over the summer and spent time in several of the world’s oldest cities, and then focused on the problem of inadequate water access within a camp that serves 6,000 residents. A design and landscape-based challenge, the team built a variety of options to capture stormwater and rainwater, cleanse it, and re-distribute it as potable or recycled water for irrigation and play. While the history of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is long and complex (see this history of the conflict in maps), the challenge of capturing rainwater on a single site is something that can be implemented in real time. As a documentarian, I wrote 2,500 to 3,000 words per day, and we’re working on pieces for publication this Fall. Nothing in this paragraph suffices to capture what the trip was–I’m struggling for words. It was. I will write more.

And lastly, this Fall I’ll also be teaching again in the Writer’s Workshop, a private group for people who want to build a practice and a community around writing. Writing unlocks our minds and helps us clarify who we are, how we think, and how we connect with others. Last Spring, I opened up the first writing workshop to a group of twenty-five people from around the world and was blown away by the talent, enthusiasm, and dedication of each of the people in the class. I’ve updated and modified the program to make it into a four-week program that focuses on storytelling, imagination, creativity and persuasion–helping writers and aspiring writers of all fields learn how to add more detail, color, and story to their blog posts, essays, and other daily communications.

Writing well is critical to great living. It’s one of my core beliefs, as I dig into understanding the whys behind what I do: writing helps us clarify who we are, what we believe, and serves as an introspective tool for a journey into your own mind. Good writing also helps us get better at explaining ourselves, our ideas, our projects, our thought processes, and our deepest wants and desires. If you want to get better at any job, relationship, or project–get better at writing. Improving your writing makes nearly everything better. If you’ve been to one of my courses or live events before, come join us. ‘ll be sharing more information on the writing class over the next few weeks, and posting details here: http://dev.sarahkpeck.com/writers-workshop/.

SF-reflections Bay Bridge at night

And in addition to leaving my Day job, I’ve left San Francisco for a while.

The distance a country puts between your old life and a new, unprepared, different life–a life now navigated within the corridors of unfamiliar yet strangely reassuring streets–makes me see my old self with more contrast, more clarity. Distance gives perspective. Change shows your edges. Challenges reveal where we have more work to do.

I left San Francisco, heading to Brooklyn, New York for the Fall to build my own writing, teaching, and consulting practice. My client roster was overwhelming my ability to stay sane and get sleep while working full time, and so–I jumped. I leaned, and I leaned hard, arms spinning, free-falling in the the glorious disruption that is change. After long conversations with close friends, my own coaches, and my mentors both at my company and in my life, I wrapped up my time with my employer and I’m in a bit of a free space right now. It’s wonderful, it’s open, it’s strange, it’s new–and it’s now. It’s here. I’m in it.

It’s less of a jolt and disruption, in some ways, because I believe that the old employer–employee relationship is antiquated, and the job that’s perfect for you three years ago is not the same job (and nor are you the same person) today. Everything shifts and is in flux, and the jobs (employers, clients, projects) that stick around longest are ones that match you and your evolving human talents and needs the best. This shift, then, at least for me, is one towards more project-based work; a move that I believe is more in alignment with how corporate and employment relationships should work.

Brownstones-700

But the truth is, I’m avoiding the heart matter, the real reason I’m changing tracks, the deeper stories woven into this framework of self-employment and time management. It’s easier to talk about jobs and locations and moving, because those are things I can point to. These are the things that feel safer to talk about, for some reason. Yet one of the beautiful, albeit less publicly prominent, stories in my life has has been simply and glossily covered over with the use of words like “life opportunities,” and “strategic choices” and “changes,” and “new directions.” These words mask the beauty of a burgeoning and deepening and marvelous love story I can’t even fully grasp that I’m a part of (me? this is me? how is this happening!?) — and my heart is cracking open with this new adventure. My partner. In life. I can’t wait to write about it, too, whenever the time is right.

In short, I’m stunned by how much my life has changed over the last few years. I bow in deep prayer to the universe and to spirits and to energy flows with thanks and gratitude for the gifts in my life.

We can’t wait until later to work on developing beautiful relationships, to starting new adventures, to leaning, to jumping. It’s always time to practice and to push. It’s an adventure, and you’ve only got a few opportunities to live it.

Breathe.

But let’s dig a little deeper. Even beneath the shift in my relationships and the work that I’m doing is even deeper heart work. Life work. Body work. The thing is, I’m doing some mind work. I’ve been running at full steam for nearly a decade, and in a grasp towards more consciousness and deliberate creation, I’ve slowed down the project roll and I’m consciously practicing choices that make space in my life for essential philosophies and practices I want to devote more time to. I’m continuing to practice saying no to opportunities that don’t quite fit right; no to clients that aren’t a fabulous fit; and no to things that make me tired, cranky, and uncomfortable–like sitting still all day.

And as this moves forward, I’m creating space–ample space–for projects I’ve long put on the back burner.

My critics–largely internal–tell me this is silly, self indulgent, a waste of time. They sit on my shoulders and grumble, moaning about the work I’d better be doing, about the nonsensical things my brain tries to write, cackling in the backdrop. Occasionally I meet a real critic–someone who voices what I’ve been spinning up in my head–and the conversation usually ends with a decent explanation of why I’m doing what I’m doing, surprising even myself.

It can be easy.

It can be now.

My new apartment has a blank wall on it, in a room we’ve devoted to art and creation and the expansive, contemplative work my partner and I are devoted too, and even though we’re not moving in for another week or so, I’ve already scribbled across multiple sheets of paper with ideas, brainstorms, and plans. I’m pinning them up in the invisible wall in my mind. The marked shift is not one of dreaming that I put movement and writing first in my life, but a life in which I actually do it, and continue to align my life according to my values and principles.

Mind work, body work, spirit work.

We are more than the work we create and the products we produce. We are more than the money we earn and the statuses we post. We are humans, to the core, with moving, living, breathing bodies. We are connected, in communities and networks and relationships, and all of the pieces and parts need to be nurtured and allowed; cultivated and fed.

The next few months–nay, longer, please–are about mind work; about spirit work; about body work. We create a career and chase financial gains for consumer-based tendencies; in an effort to challenge these assumptions, the next few months of my life are deliberately about experimentation. I want to push myself (or yield, or soften) into experiments with mind and body. With doing more movement, and less computer work. With changing routines to learn what suits me best. With spirituality first and mental work first. With practices that develop the mind, body and soul. I’ve opened up space in this new life, this new day, for more writing and more movement. More teaching and more learning. More being.

Notes-Kindness-ShowUp-Beginner-700

This means its messy, it’s different. There are a lot of late nights (or early nights) with tears. I’m not good at this; I’m not good at being composed and balanced at all times. I don’t expect myself to be, either. I get really stressed out and I want to throw things against walls and I make hyperactive sets of lists and then I feel like a complete failure when I’ve only done one or two things on my list. I put the list down. I listen to waves of anxiety roll across my body, and I practice trying to observe it—not critique it. I spend months in places that don’t feel right and only when it really really doesn’t feel good to I finally leave; and I learn that next time, I’ll listen to my intuition a little more closely. I shift, I dance, I fall.

Finding calm in the midst of chaos is not easy. Today is a day just like any other, and there is no arrival. Pema Chödrön’s “When Things Fall Apart,” has been a close reminder that the idea of chasing a completeness or an arrival–that feeling of having arrived is a false premise. We are not arriving, we are always arriving. We are always moving. Life is more often a state of chaos than calm; the fleeting satisfaction of completion erodes, too, as time passes and we seek more challenges, learning, opportunities.

The entire process—this ongoing, transitory adventure, this journey—provides fodder for stories and writing and ongoing exploration and journey. The more I grow and learn, the less I feel as though I have any answers at all. I document to track my brain’s inner workings, to train my mind, to place markers in the ground, to discover myself. I write because it’s such a gift to my soul and a beautiful way to connect with others. I teach writing because I hope to share the journey and discovery with like-minded individuals; I learn as much from the talented people I work with as I hope to share.

Thank you for joining me on this journey, and for listening. I’ve created beautiful friendships from this blog and I am grateful to be able to share with each of you.

To living life, to mind work, to creating space.

XOXO

sarah signature

Tell me what you’ve been working on: I’d love to hear about it in the comments. How has your life shifted and changed over the past year? What’s become clear to you, and what are you working to prioritize? How do you deal with change and transition?

Is It Too Late?

Posted on August 22, 2013August 12, 2015 by Sarah K Peck

“For what it’s worth, it’s never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There’s no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.”

– Benjamin Button

Why I say no to meeting people for coffee

Posted on July 22, 2013July 31, 2017 by Sarah K Peck

If you struggle with balancing your time and wondering when and how to meet people for lunch or coffee, read on. Sometimes (and a lot of the time, actually) I have to say no–and here’s part of the reason why.

gty_cup_coffee_health_2_nt_120516_wg

Ever say yes to something and wish you hadn’t? Or get stuck in a situation where you’re not sure how to say no to something? Or better yet, get asked for money and you don’t know how to say no? I have a hard time saying no (an impossible time, sometimes, because I want to say yes to everything), so recently I said no to meeting someone for coffee and it was the right call. I had to use a phrase I rarely say (okay, now I say it more often):

“No, I won’t meet you for coffee.”

Those words were really hard to say. For some reason, saying no feels like an impossibility for me.

Usually I say no only if I can’t–if I’m on a plane or in another state, for instance. If I’ve maxed out my credit card cycle for the month, so I can’t donate for another two weeks. Things like that.

But is this a good behavior pattern to adopt? It’s certainly proved wonderful in my life–but I know there are times when saying no is prudent. When you need to say no because there are other priorities. When meeting for 5-6 various in-person interactions during the week totals as much as 20 hours per week, and 20 hours per week of transit, travel, follow-up and coordination time could be better spent writing a book or finishing projects for my clients–I have to prioritize. And while I love you; if I meet with you, I won’t write my book.

And that dang book won’t write itself.

(Trust me, I’ve tried that route).

But how do you say no? How do you know when not to meet with someone, or when donating or giving money is going to put you in more trouble than help someone else? Granted, I just raised $29,000 for charity and asked a LOT of people to help me out–so the world works on a big cycle of people saying yes. I’m not going to dispute that. And for every person that said yes, there were hundreds of people who said no–and that’s also absolutely fine. It’s the way the world works. So, when can I say no?

I talk a lot with people older than I am, and they mention that they only learned later in life how much they value their own quirks and life preferences. Being at home. Staying out late. Spending time with their friends. Read any end-of-life list and you won’t see someone say,

“Boy, I wish I had said yes to more appointments and meetings.”

Me? I love writing. I love reading. I absolutely adore being home, by myself, with my computer, rationalizing and thinking and mulling over ideas and pieces. Picture Tina Fey in 30 Rock delighting over organization. That’s me and books and my open screen made for all my words to spill onto.

It takes me time–a lot of time–to put these ideas together. I typically need uninterrupted space, for hours, to really sort things out and put them together and string words into phrases and meanings. On a lot of days I get up really early just to do this and I often stay up late or find time on Friday or Saturday night to write posts because I want and crave the space for my ideas.

So meeting daily for 10AM meetings or 7PM meetings is not ideal for me. (In fact, and more on this in another post, I try to schedule all of my meetings on what I call “Meeting Thursdays,” so I can enjoy most of my other days sans-meetings).

And I start to wonder how people with more demands on their time do it, because I’m not a big shot by any means (and never will be)–and yet I get a lot of requests for coffee, meetings, one-on-one events, and space on my calendar, as I’m certain so many working and busy people do. It’s more than I can handle, in fact, and I’ll have to say no to them if I want to get any work on my personal projects done.

I did the math, and I realized that if I were to meet with every person for coffee each week, I’d give up 10-20 hours a week of time, or 80 hours a month, and for someone who’s been saying she wants to write a book for several years now, I’ve got to stop and ask myself–

Is meeting for this coffee worth more to you than doing the writing you want to do?

And while yes, I would love to meet you for coffee, and I’m overjoyed at the prospect of spending time with so many lovely people, I know that in order to get the projects done that I want to get done, I sometimes have to say no.

I have to say no.

Same goes for subscriptions, memberships, and many other things. And I used to feel bad–sort of–about saying No. I felt like I ought to say yes, take the opportunity, do it. It might have some opportunity! I might be missing something! Classic FOMO.

How do you say no, kindly? There are two key phrases that really help–try these out:

For time:

“I wish I could join you. However, I need to carve out space for myself this week and I don’t have time to meet you.”

Shorter still:

“I can’t. I need to carve out space for myself this week.”

And for clients wanting the ubiquitous “pick your brain” option (see Laura Roeder’s excellent post on this)–

“If it’s a quick question, send it over and I’ll answer it quickly! If it’s a longer query, while I’d love to chat, right now my lunch hours are reserved for clients. Here’s my current rate–let me know if you’d like to book a lunch session.”

And for money:

“It’s not in my budget.”

It’s your decision to say yes or no. And in a world with an abundance of yes, sometimes I need to select the “no” answer.

Need more help in this area? Marie Forleo has a list of go-to scripts that have helped me immensely. Enjoy!

With love, and a kind “no,” to preserve my sanity in the in-between times.

sarah signature

Start where you are.

Posted on June 28, 2013June 28, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

Where are you?

Just a few weeks ago: I’m sitting on the floor of an empty studio, barefoot, with not a piece of furniture in it. Boxes line the hallways and two giant moving trucks are parked out in the street. Every so often our dogs bark, whining about being pent up in the back. I’m helping my Dad move two states away, and the entire house has been up-ended. We’re sleeping on the carpet floor for two nights without beds. I have a radio interview scheduled and I’ve hidden in the bathroom to talk from my laptop to make this happen because their are painters next door.

Right now, we’re in limbo.

I ask if we can not use Skype video–as video is probably not the best medium at the moment, although I’m happy to talk — and right at the beginning, our interview accidentally goes to video. I laugh, and I tell my story: “Well, you caught me! I’m sitting on a floor right now, chatting at you while all the furniture is being taken out of my house … mind if we switch to audio only? Otherwise you’ll have me sitting on a floor in my yoga pants!”

Right now, right here.

Let’s stop imagining the pretend perfect circumstances that might have maybe led to the possibility of your wildest dreams, and get real about the fact they haven’t happened yet. You are here. You are what you are.

Start where you are. Right here. Right now.

This is where the magic happens.

When you’re tired, worn out, flabbergasted, stressed out. You get up, you park yourself in the corner of the room, you duct-tape fabric ver the window to stop the glare, you polish your lips and you record that video interview anyways, even if you think the whole world behind you is falling apart. Do it in style. Make it happen.

Often all the things that aren’t right aren’t really problems–they are just crutches. “Well, I’ll do it once I have furniture in my house again. I’ll do it when I’m not so tired. I’ll do it when I’m feeling better. I’ll do it …”

Nope, sorry. This is it. Today.

I know very few stories of people who got set up in ideal circumstances and then made the magic happen. Rather, it’s about making the magic happen in any circumstance. (That’s true magic, right there).

Because if you can’t make it happen NOW… when will you?

Start where you are.

sarah signature

How much should you share with the internet, anyways?

Posted on June 18, 2013June 18, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

This is the third in a series of posts about building your voice on the internet and making work that sees the light of day for people who have been wanting to blog, create, make, or write. I host a quarterly writing workshop for people interested in learning more about storytelling and writing. The class will re-open for summer enrollment soon–I’m currently updating the program and hard at work behind the scenes for the next class, which should be live in July. But first: when you do make something, how do you know if you should share it?

How do you know if it’s okay to share your personal stories with the big wide internet?

Many of us have stories that are hard to tell to our friends, let alone the public. When is it right to share a story, and when could it get you in trouble? When building an online space or a brand related to you, how do you know if it’s okay to tell your story? If you have dreams and visions for the future that don’t align with your current direction with your employer, how transparent can you be about it?

One problem with writing so much personal stuff is wondering when and how to share it.

When I write, I often wonder whether of not I can share this immediately with other people. Knowing when to take your writing public (and when it’s still something you need to work through in community) is a difficult thing to gauge. When is your story worthy of other people being granted permission to see it?

I often share only about a quarter of the things I’ve written, if not much less, and I make it a rule to only share things that I’m nearly done processing or when I’ve found (or nearly found) resolution to a particular idea. While I write as a means to figure things out, I rarely share things as I’m going through the turmoil itself, for many reasons.

My mind is a fickle, raw and tender place, and I’m not always ready to put that space out into the world for judgment–nor is this beneficial to me as a person. I often need to discover my own thoughts and ideas before I can bring them to light with a larger audience.

When I’m working through an idea or a problem that’s raw and tender to me, I guard it closely and give it only to trusted people who I think can cradle my idea (and my heart) with enough tender kindness to assist my in my journey of discovery; each added circle is an extended level of intimacy that is granted permission to care about my heart as much as I do.

I don’t share the things that feel too scary or uncomfortable or too present; those I keep only within an inner circle of close companions and friends, expanding the circle as I get feedback and confidence and resolution in the particular process. Brene Brown articulates her thoughts around this beautifully, and I adhere to similar philosophies. As Brene Brown writes:

“Vulnerability is about sharing our feelings and our experiences with people who have earned the right to hear them.”

As we circle into the places of darkness and respect the struggles that make us human, remember these boundaries, excerpted from “Daring Greatly” by Brene Brown:

“I don’t tell stories or share vulnerabilities with the public until I’ve worked through them with the people I love. I have my own boundaries around what I share and what I don’t share and I stay mindful of my intentions.”

“First, I only share stories or experiences that I’ve worked through and feel that I can share from solid ground. I don’t share what I call “intimate” stories and I don’t share stories that are fresh wounds. [Second], I follow the rule that I learned in my graduate social work training. Sharing yourself to teach or move a process forward can be healthy and effective, but disclosing information as a way to work through your personal stuff is inappropriate and unethical. Last, I only share when I have no unmet needs that I’m trying to fill.”

Learning these boundaries and rules can be difficult as a new writer, especially in the age of the internet where everything is recorded and visible by anyone. I’ve had my moments when I have essays up in public forums, presentations to give to large audiences, and a professional demeanor to uphold—and while the public world churns along (or dissects my teenage and past angst), I maintain a separation between the events of past and the current events that might dominate my emotional landscape.

Several years ago, during the worst of my breakup with my ex-fiance, I would come home late at night after work, let go of the armor that got me through the day, and quite literally crawl in through the garage to curl up on the carpet alone to the temporary bed I was sleeping on. The shaggy carpet smelled of stale cat and the room shook with the heat of the dryer adjacent to my tiny room. I would lie stone flat on the ground, staring up at the ceiling in such pain that I thought I could never eat again. I had a total of four outfits I could bear wearing, and I slept for days in the same outfit. I couldn’t find a way to eat, think, or cry, and I called my sister just to hear her talk to me on the other end of the line. I didn’t know what to do; and still, despite an inclination that wanted to paint the story across the social web and internet world, I knew that I couldn’t. I didn’t talk about much of this for well over a year, until I’d sobbed my way through my sister’s Kleenex boxes and worked closely with a therapist to help move through the hurt.

I remember the day that I finally shared the story, talked about and opened up to what I’d been through—and I found deep connection and soul-sisters across the internet who reached out and said, “I know. I’ve been there. And thank you, for sharing.” It was only after I’d found the ways to heal that I was able to share my story and learn from it. And like many of the painful moments we each go through, I know (now, at least), how much of my resilience and growth came through these experiences.

Writing is first about creating a relationship with yourself and then about sharing the stories. I use writing to discover and work through my emotions—capturing and recording the raw states of being, storing them in a place to revisit and reconnect with later—but the stories I publish related to emotional wounds are often long healed or well on the way towards healing.

A good rule of thumb to ask is “does this make me feel anything still?” If you’re still feeling pain or angst, or hoping for a response from others, consider keeping it in a smaller circle for now, or holding on to it until later. Likewise, if there’s a response that might be hurtful—and by this I mean if someone could read this and do something that would hurt your feelings—also consider that you might not be ready to share the piece just yet. Protect yourself, and take care of your heart. You always come first, no matter what. Sharing is second, and can be metered out to those closest to us and only later to larger audiences.

In the name of vulnerability, sharing is important. But in the world of the internet, it’s also good to be cautious about where you share and what you share, and keep it close to yourself at first.

Writing is first a journey into your own mind, and remembering to respect yourself and your soul is critical. Share everything with yourself. Put your words down, write your heart out, and keep that journal flush with ideas. This is your place, your soul, yourself. Part one of the week on persuasion is developing an authentic relationship with yourself. Learn how to listen to your ideas, how to applaud them, how to shape them, how to let them take the form that they want—as stubborn as they may seem at times.

First drafts are okay. You are not the Messiah, and your message is not going to be perfect. You can write first drafts, second drafts, and third drafts. This can be a work in progress. You are allowed to edit–in fact, you are allowed to change your mind! You can write later, “I wrote this a while back, and now I think this.”

Make mistakes. (And you can ask for forgiveness). If you make a mistake, you can take action to fix it. Don’t hold back from something because you’re worried about outcomes that are not yet real. Dive into them and make a lot of mistakes. (That’s actually the better outcome).

Start small. If you write a post and no one shows up, it’s because you didn’t invite them to the party. Write something and then share it with a couple of people that you think would actually be a good audience for it. Write them a personal message and say that you wrote something. (“Hey Susan! I wrote this essay and I’m wondering if you have time to read it and tell me what you think! Ideas, comments, general feedback is perfect. I’m new to this and just starting to share my ideas. Thank you!”).

What about if you over-share? Remember, we live and learn. Don’t admonish yourself too harshly for oversharing. We can ask for permission (if you let the cat out of the bag about your future dreams and your employer lets you go, perhaps the universe was giving you a gentle shove). You can recover from most things and ask for forgiveness in places of error.

But my general rule is to write it out in my journals first, develop stories that are publicly share-able (usually a fraction of the writing that I do) and then tell the stories that help the message when the time is right. Much of the writing is for me (discovering, learning, processing), and many of the experiences become useful stories later.

What rules do you have for sharing yourself with the internet world? Have you ever been afraid to share something, and if so, what is the number one thing that’s holding you back?

AND–if you’d like, share a piece of your work in the comments below! There are lovely people who read this blog. Share away!

With love as always,